


Run from your problems, and hope someone else will catch you

by Hawkbringer



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bullying, Coming of Age, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Friendship, Gen, Head Massage, Hockey, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jamie is 13 in this, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Slash If You Squint, Spraining an ankle, Swearing, Swearing in Jamie's prescence as an act of acknowledging that he has grown, boys crying, cross-country skiing - Freeform, including how to spell skis, like its clearly going to be a thing but theyre putting it off for now, mild medical distress, outdoor winter sports, the author knows nothing about skiing, the world is cruel but cuddling is sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: 13-year-old Jamie Bennet has hockey lessons, but he gets bullied for believing, for being small, for being an artist... Take your pick. He goes out cross-country-skiing after practice one day to help clear his head, but he overdoes it and sprains his ankle. Thankfully, Jack Frost swoops in to collect him and spirit him back home. Jack has been away almost this whole winter, and Jamie's so glad to see him that he gets more cuddly than usual once they're safe inside, alone in his room. (Platonic, but could be pre-slash if you want)
Relationships: Jamie Bennett/Jack Frost
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	Run from your problems, and hope someone else will catch you

**Author's Note:**

> Written approximately April 2016 or earlier. Un-beta'd and messy with italics still in // form. But it has an ending, which is more than I can say for a lot of the fics I write!

Jamie comes home from hockey practice one day and drops all his stuff in the mudroom and stands there for a minute with his forehead on the doorjamb or the cool washing machine and after he calls to his mom that he's home, he calls right back to add that he's going out again. And he slings his skiis over his shoulder in their giant-ass case (I have no idea how skis work, nor how to spell them) and tromps outside to the pond and throws a rock onto its surface because he has this notion that Jack will hear it. 

He can't stand sitting in one place for very long, though, not after how hockey practice went today, so he immediately straps on his skiis and leaves an obvious trail for his friend to follow if or when he /decides/ to follow.

He shoves off and tramps across the ridiculously uneven fucking ground for a good half hour before his muscles ache in a way that actually feels /good/ for once, not like he's trying to tear something with quick direction-reversals or balancing solely on his toes. 

He gets lost, after a while, in the quiet of the outdoors this far from the school, from the center of town. It's a bright day, no clouds on the horizon, no storms in the forecast, so he doesn't fear getting truly lost - he'll be able to follow his own tracks back to the pond. 

He overestimates, however, how much of his strength remains after that grueling physical practice. 

One hour out, the bottom drops out of his angst-and-adrenaline-fueled state and he slumps on his feet. Just the thought of turning around and slogging all the way back to the pond, even if it would be downhill this time, makes him almost sorry he didn't bring his cellphone. With a groan, he shuffles awkwardly 180 degrees and pushes off again. He tries to ignore the way his hands shake as he shuffles down a hairpin turn. 

That's not so great an idea, he finds out shortly, as he trips like some kind of greenhorn at the bottom and twists his ankle with a shout and falls against a tree.

Breathing harshly, Jamie focuses on sitting up straight. Managing to drag himself upright against the tree, leg visibly scarred by his ski's impact, Jamie desperately wracks his brain for some way to get himself out of this situation before night falls and he /freezes/ to death. 

As if to mock his attempt, the wind picks up and bites mercilessly at his exposed wrists. Hissing as he pulls his gloves down over them, Jamie realizes belatedly what such a cold wind means. A sound of joy accompanies his waving at nothing, shouting his best friend's name. 

********

"JAAAAACK!" he hollers, trying to twist his head around to see if the white-haired teen is riding the wind towards him or away from him. 

"Hiya, kid. Taking a break, are we?" 

Whipping his head upwards so fast he risks whiplash, Jamie's mouth drops open with the most annoyed huff of relief he's ever huffed.

"Jaaack," he wheedles, not even caring how much he sounds like a kid who doesn't want a nap. "I am /so/ not...Ugh!" He thumps his head back against the tree, uncaring of the bruise he might incur. "My ankle's broke. I think."

"It's what now?" Jack sails down from the higher branches and lands, with help from the Wind, with barely a sound. He braces his crouch on his staff and reaches out one hand to Jamie's right ankle.

"Don't touch it!" the boy shouts, trying to jerk it away from his would-be diagnostician, and barely managing to get it anywhere, as tangled in his skis as his legs are.

Jack just raises his eyebrows and chuckles in self-defense. "Whoa-ho. Okaaay! Got it. No touching." He leans back and wraps both hands around his staff, sucking his lower lip between his teeth as he finally greets Jamie by staring him straight in the eyes. 

Jamie can't decide if he hates it or loves it when Jack does that. Because he feels like there's nowhere for him to hide. But he never, ever, wants to feel lost again. 

"Hi," Jack says quietly, like it's been way too long since he's last said it. Jamie rolls his eyes at him, with a smile. It's only been a few weeks... Months? Mostly, Jamie hasn't been missing him, but today...

With a self-effacing gulp and a hand grasping his own neck, Jamie admits, "Mother /fuck/, I am /so/ glad you came, Jack. I don't know how I'm gonna walk home...." 

Jack's eyebrows shoot up again. "Hey, language, little man! How old are you, /nine/?" Jamie's face scrunches slightly in a way Jack thinks probably /isn't/ good.

"I'm 13, you complete dickhead, and I've heard worse than /that/ in the past /three hours/ and I just..." He hangs his head, not even moving his hand to fiddle half-heartedly with his ski's clasps like he was going to. It's too far. "I just wanna go home." He raises his head before Jack can taunt him with something like 'Say the magic word!' and insists, "/Please./ Jack. Can you take me home?" 

Jack blinks twice and his hands loosen on his staff. His eyes flick between Jamie's like he's seeing something he never has before. 

Abandoning all pretense of dignity, Jamie lets his face collapse like he's about to cry and holds out his hands towards the angel he has been guardian of. "/Please?/" 

Jack seems to shake himself and puts his staff down, or rather, lets it /fall/ down, and immediately starts working on undoing his skiis. "/Shit/, kid, I - yeah. Fuck. Okay. Okay, I'll get you home." 

It's the first time he's sworn like that in front of Jamie, apart from exclamations in moments when snowballs to the face were imminent. 

Jamie blinks at him as he tries to bend himself in half and reach his boot-clasps - Jack's doing a really crap job of it himself - and when their hands touch, Jack's head snaps up and he stares at Jamie, at his pained, pale face gone a blotchy, uneven red, at the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and his mouth thins as he makes a snap decision.

"Okay, screw it. I'll carry you like this." He rises from his crouch only to scurry forward and attempt to slide one arm beneath Jamie's knees. Jamie lets out a closed-mouth sound of distress that thins Jack's lips further. He stills his hands. "Are you okay?" 

Jamie shakes his head. "Ugh...no. But just do it anyway." He screws his eyes shut and reaches with his far hand for Jack's shoulder. 

The white-haired boy inhales deeply and lifts Jamie into his arms with a little help from the wind. The half-undone skis dangle off his feet and stab Jack in the thigh, but no time for that now. He glances around wildly and spots his winter staff and Jamie's ski poles. 

"Hang onto me," he cautions the boy clinging to his shoulders, who digs his fingers in harder at the words. Jack spins a blast of snow and wind with his free hand and tosses the three staffs skyward. 

He leaps after them and manages to collect them all on the first try. Jamie lets one of Jack's shoulders go to help catch them, and as they fly back the way Jamie had come, straight towards Jamie's house, they pass over the frozen pond. Jamie wriggles in Jack's arms and shouts at him over the roar of the wind. 

Jack glides to a stop and asks him to repeat that. 

"My shoes and stuff are down there, on the rock!" Jamie shouts again, though Jack can hear him perfectly fine now. He descends gracefully, smiling at his own proficiency as he lands with barely a jostle to the bundle in his arms. 

He sets Jamie down on the rock he'd left behind only a hour and a half ago, the only change in the scene now being the angle of the sun. 

Jamie leans down with a grimace and finally undoes his skis. He hands them to Jack, who stands there with five staff-shaped objects in his arms, looking put out. His pout is exaggerated enough that when Jamie finally looks up from gingerly lacing up his shoes over his now-swollen ankle, he laughs out loud. 

Since that /is/ what Jack was going for, he drops the act immediately, and his old friend's genuine smile calms Jamie's jangled nerves like nothing else. He feels, very suddenly, like asking if Jack enjoys spending time with him, if he thinks about him when Jamie's not around. 

Incredulous at his own thoughts, Jamie shakes his head at them exasperatedly, and holds out his arms to his friend.

"You got everything?" Jack asks as he helps the kid balance on one foot and hop over to his backpack. 

"Yeah, that's everything," Jamie affirms, taking the skis and staffs of his own from Jack's ungainly pile, swiftly and expertly lashing them to the pack in an 'X' shape.

"Want me to carry you home?" Jack ventures, careful now to /ask/ after Jamie had chewed him out a visit or two ago for flying him home bridal-style 'like a girl.'

"Pfft, /yeah/!" Jamie replies incredulously, already slinging one arm over Jack's shoulder to better facilitate the bridal carry. 

Jack catches him instinctively as Jamie attempts to crawl into his arms, but awkwardly has to put him down before he can rearrange his arms to his satisfaction. 

This puts Jamie's face much nearer to his and Jack's arm isn't under Jamie's neck like he would /prefer/, but... He still leans down and nuzzles Jamie's nose and says quietly with a /real/ smile on his face, "Love ya, kid." 

This just makes Jamie's face scrunch up again and tears and snot leak from his face and he tries not to add slobber to the list as he buries his face into Jack's cold, cold chest and drags lines into his blue hoodie with increasingly desperate hands. 

"I'm so glad you came," he warbles through the phlegm building in his throat. He sniffles and snorts and coughs and pants and whines high in his nose and Jack just holds him tighter as he speeds them and their many personal effects back towards Jamie's home. 

*****

Hovering before Jamie's window nervously rubbernecking for fear of passersby, Jack stays as still as he can as Jamie picks the window open from the outside. It doesn't take long, since Jamie long ago lost track of how many times he's done this. 

Once they're inside, Jamie launches himself out of Jack's arms and lands face-down on his bed with a /whumpf/ not entirely made of the covers resettling. He spreads his arms out and half-heartedly attempts to flop them out of his backpack. 

Jack sighs and tuts at him and helps him struggle it off, then drops into a crouch and undoes his shoes for him without being asked. 

After the first one falls, Jamie rolls over and pushes himself up on his elbows. Crouched at his feet, Jack glances up nervously. 

"Too much? Want me to stop?" He doesn't look like he /wants/ to stop, though, and Jamie falls back down flat and nudges Jack's chest with his still-shod foot. 

"No, keep going." 

"Yes, my little angel," Jack murmurs sing-songingly so only Jamie can hear. Usually, the sound Jamie makes at that kind of taunt is one of mortal embarrassment or a warning growl. 

This time, it's something sadder, and Jack's brows furrow when he hears it. He silently finshes with the shoes and peels off the snow-wet socks. 

Once they've been tossed in the general direction of the laundry pile, he leverages himself upright and leans his staff against Jamie's desk with an audible clack, letting the boy know he's planning on sticking around for a while. 

Jamie doesn't move or open his eyes. 

Jack decides the situation calls for drastic measures.

He stalks up to the bed, then floats over top of it, straightening out against his body's better judgement. "Sweetheart?" he quieres, hovering less than a foot above Jamie's exhausted, bruised, and injured body. 

Jamie whines behind his teeth again, an adorably childish sound, and turns his head away from Jack. 

"Jamie?" he says again, trying to imbue his tone with more sternness. "I'm going to cuddle you now unless you say no," he warns, sinking closer, his body's chill surely sensible to Jamie's skin now.  
The boy groans again and turns his head back toward Jack. When Jamie opens his eyes, the winter guardian nearly forgets how to hover and wobbles dangerously before catching himself with a bitten lip and fear on his face. 

"Do it," Jamie tells him, voice blunt and face smooth. No expression. "God, /please/. I want you to cuddle me so hard." 

Jack /really/ can't tell if he's being serious, but Jamie's never been good at lying. His eyebrows push up and wrinkle his forehead, his eyes lost and forlorn. "Jay...I... Do you mean that?" 

Jamie's eyes harden, Jack's only warning before the boy's arms launch themselves from the bed and wrap around Jack's shoulders, tugging hard. He succeeds in dragging Jack down to him only because the winter spirit was surprised. Had he been expecting it, Jamie would have only pulled himself off the bed instead. 

But fall Jack does, their respective bony angles meeting yet muted by the many layers of winter clothes still swaddling Jamie's slight frame. 

Jack saves his chin for last. 

He lets it drop into the space above Jamie's shoulder and tries to move his arms to accomodate Jamie's clasping of his shoulders. The only place he can think to put them is on Jamie's head. 

So he strokes Jamie's hair, surreptitiously checking him for bruises, wincing when he finds a few. Jamie moans at the stroking, but it sounds like a happy moan this time, so Jack continues it. 

Jamie's hands on his shoulderblades loosen then, and they drift upwards towards Jack's hair. "May I?" he mumbles, fingers drawing patterns on Jack's neck. 

"My hair? Sure," he mumbles back, barely comprehensible due to having his mouth crushed against the crumpled hood of Jamie's coat.

Jamie makes a happy sound and pushes his fingers into Jack's hair slowly, teasing the guardian to sleep just as Jack's hands were doing to him. 

Moments away from dropping off, feeling dizzy and perhaps like he was floating again, Jamie's hands in his hair still, like they can sense his imminent departure from the land of the waking. 

"Did you mean it?" he murmurs, this time against Jack's hair. "/Do/ you love me?" 

The phrase didn't stir up any painful memories, any painful possible futures, in that moment. So Jamie got just the truth. 

"Mmm," Jack replies, rubbing his cheek against Jamie's chin. "You made me /real./ I'll love you for /always/."

Jamie hummed in approval and starts the circling motion with his fingers again, making Jack huff out a series of sounds that sounded suspciously like "ohhh-ho-ho-ho," and may have been laughter, at some other time. Jamie smiled at it in the moments before he too dropped off, saying simply, "Good."

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Original end note:
> 
> I mean, clearly, they need a second chapter, where they talk a little bit more about why Jack's been gone, or, well, more importantly, about the bullies at hockey practice and if cuddling means you're not a real man and some jabs about ballerina lessons and jack shaking his head at Jamie's idea that all gay people have to be a certain way or become a certain way once they learn they /are/ gay. 
> 
> "You forget how many people I've seen. You forget how old I am," he added more somberly. Jamie files it away to ask for a number later, and lets him finish. "I've seen so many people live and die, Jaim. There /is/ no right and wrong. No shoulds. There's only what you like to do. And what other people like to do. And when those clash, there's wars." He shrugs. "That's the reason humans have rules and stuff. Cuz otherwise, everyone would be at war all the time. It's just easier to say, 'I'll live in my house, and you live in yours and you don't come in uninvited and neither will I.' Makes things simpler." 
> 
> "Well, sure, but what about..." And here I lose the thread of their conversation. So much of it is what I want to hear someone say to /me/, as I learn that nothing is permanent, nothing is /true/. There's only what you like, and what someone else likes. If enough people believe it, a lie can be a fact. And that's just about the /only/ fact that can /ever/ exist.
> 
> \---
> 
> Comment below if you want to help me as a beta-reader, or you want me to add tags! Thank the Great Quarantine that I posted this at all!


End file.
